


Anchor: ...In Waves

by mockingjayne



Series: Anchor [2]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: PART TWOClaire's been here before, but refuses to allow them to succumb to the same outcome, anchoring herself to the one person who won't let her drown, Jamie.Canon divergent from 5x04.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp & Jamie Fraser, Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: Anchor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656268
Comments: 22
Kudos: 79





	Anchor: ...In Waves

Claire can still feel the smile upon her face, the one in which real laughter had escaped, boisterously through the night, bouncing off the flames, landing squarely on the matching grin of her husband’s face.She’d relinquished control, if only for a moment, unable to stifle the bubbling happiness, however briefly, from tumbling out as she had watched Jamie dance.A marked dance of defiance, one in which he tempted fate, in not only believing that the worst wasn’t about to happen, but in the confidence of his dance skills (A sheepish grin for her suggesting otherwise).For as bulky as he was, Claire’s eyes had been filled with mirth at how light on his feet he appeared.

Jamie had perhaps had a bit too much to drink, stumbling through the trail of trees, enclosing them in their embrace, shielding their outside troubles from seeping into the first night in a long while that they could actually enjoy themselves.The moonlight peeked through the branches, lighting their way, as she gripped Jamie’s arm.The fear from before laying dormant, awaiting it’s opportunity to spring up again and steal the laughter away from her.

“Where are we going?” A soft giggle accompanies her question, attempting to quell the rising panic.

“Ye got somewhere else tae be?” He replies, a crooked grin smiling down at her.

“Hmm, maybe,” she cocks her head, causing him to raise his brow.

“Well, dinna let me keep ye, _Rawlings_ ,” he teases, causing her mouth to drop open, before she purposely pushes him, having him stumble ahead of her.

“Yer stronger than ye look, Sassenach,” his words louder than usual, coming out as he trips over a branch in the trail.

“Careful,” she laughs, her hand attempting to steady him, but he twirls her into him instead, his face burying in her hair, taking her in as if she were the very air he breathed.This only further cementing in her mind that she’d not been wrong when she’d claimed to be the the one thing he loved the most in this world.

A contented sigh passes through him, his gaze moving over her, seemingly sobering him up immediately.She can feel some of the tension from earlier making its way through him, causing her to stiffen.

“Can I ask ye a question, Sassenach?” He asks, the blue truth behind his question refusing to meet her eyes, instead lingering anywhere but her face.

“Of course,” she says, her once happy laughter replaced with one of nerves, her fingers wringing themselves as they settle against her belt.She swears she can hear every rustle of the leaves around them, a soft breeze trailing over her, sending gooseflesh along her arms, straight up her spine.

He pauses, as if studying something in his mind, the wheels turning, and she’s reminded of the Jamie she’d just married, embarrassed and nervous, asking questions he truly didn’t have the answers to, wanting nothing more than to protect her.

“Out with it,” she says in a light tone, hoping to encourage him, but her words tremble from her mouth, caught by the breeze, swaying with the dizzying effect of the alcohol on his breath.

“Did ye want to keep wee Bonnie?” He blurts out, but the way he’s looking at her, his usually stoic face is filled with one of concern and confusion, and she swears, that’s not really the question he wanted to ask her.

Claire has to admit that her arms feel empty having given the baby to Lucinda, aching to be filled once again with the soft weight of an infant.

“It had been suggested that she stay here with Lucinda,” she tries, raising her brow at him, trying not to betray the feeling of relief with regret mixed into a combination of want welling in her that she couldn’t stifle.

“That wasna the question,” he smiles, knowing that she was dancing around the issue.

“She needs her,” Claire offers up quietly, a whisper like a dagger digging into a scar that though had long ago healed had still left its mark, a reminder every day of what had been lost, now freshly blooming with a stab right where it hurt.

“And yer alright with that?” He asks once again, stepping closer, his hand reaching for her, but never quite landing.

Her eyes well up with tears, a torrent tearing through the blue despair, looking up to find the same emotion reflected in the pools before her.

“She was never mine to keep,” she whispers, the first tear escaping, the drop in the bucket that has Jamie’s thumb making contact with the soft pocket underneath her eye, soaking up her sadness, literally, taking the weight of her world on his shoulders, prepared to weather the storm together.

“Claire,” he murmurs, his cheek resting against her’s collecting her tears and making them his own, the bristle of his scruff anchoring her in time, her hands gripping his shirt to hold onto not just something, but the one thing in life that was her’s to keep.Of that she knew.

“Jamie,” she breathes, more familiar with his name than her own.

“’Tis a child of yer own ye want…” he begins, and she can feel her breath catch, the soft gasp whispering by his ear.

“Don’t you think our time has already passed for that?” She asks with a bit of a laugh that’s swallowed by a sniffle of tears that refuses to stop.It’s not as if the idea hadn’t floated across her mind now and then, particularly when she’d first come back to him - wondering if the regret of having missed out on both of his daughters, that he’d want something of the two of them forever, one last chance to get it right.But he’d seemed content to reacquaint himself with her, and establish a relationship with Bree.An army of grandchildren that he spoils rotten soon to follow, and with that, the idea had dissipated.“I am happy for every moment we have together, I—“

Her words are interrupted by his head pulling back, a gaze of what she can only guess as astonishment quickly turning to that of a worrying endearment wash over him as he stares at her.His hand leaves her cheek, but never breaks contact with her.Instead trailing down her neck, his short nails tickling their way to the wing of her collarbone until she feels the soft grip down her arm, the gentle yank of her belt closer to him, before resting comfortably on her stomach.Her hands come to rest upon his, as if by reflex, her body seemingly screaming in recognition of what’s going on before her mind can catch up.

“I sure hope not, Sassenach,” he says, his throat constricting, her name coming out with a choked sound, like he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

Claire’s look of disbelief clouds over her, a grin appearing on his face, and she knows he’s telling the truth.

“How could you know?” she asks, no accusation, the feeling of truth washing over her.He lets out a gruff noise that sounds something like a laugh.“Of course you know,” she says with a near roll of her eyes.

_Every moment we have together…_

The words taking on a new meaning, marking another scar ripped open, the salt of her tears rubbing in the wound of a situation that she seemed to find herself again, war imminent and her safety in question.Her last two pregnancies flashing through her mind, the grieving mother longingly staring at wee Bonnie, one she was all too familiar with.

“Tell me I didna just write your obituary sooner, mo ghràidh,” and the look of concern, the one he’d been wearing since he’d cradled wee Bonnie in his arms, the one she’d thought had been one of concern for the baby, now made sense, the whirling storm in his eyes, battling that of perhaps finally getting the charm of a third try, but feeling as if he’d needed to commit every part of her to memory, limiting her time more so than the original obituary that promised to take them in a fiery blaze.

Her fingers squeeze the now chilled hands of the man who had once told her he’d wanted them to have twelve children, one for each spoon, whose fingers had never once had one of their babies wrap their whole hand around him, but whose heart had been wrapped in love from the start for each one.

“I think we both wrote that one,” she tries to tease, but his face just scrunches even further in concern.

“i’ve no life but you, Claire,” his lips meet her forehead, needing her in that moment to feel that she was there, whole, a solid light in front of the dark unknown that was ahead.She can feel it in the pressure of his lips, the grip of his fingers, the heavy breath causing a tendril of hair to brush against her face, the erratic beat of his heart beneath her fingertips, the pulse of the current running through them both.“But seeing ye with Bonnie…it reminded me of when ye were with child with Faith,” his eyes closing at the mention, as if recalling an image of their tiny baby he’d never seen, and she does the same, the image still so clear even after all those years.“The way ye would have looked with Bree, but…I dinna want ye to suffer.“

Her hands frame his anguished face, fingertips pricking on the scruff, and while he mirrors her movement with one hand, the other refuses to leave that of her stomach, as if letting go would then allow the wave that threatened to swallow them under in its darkness would take her, them, from him.

“I didn’t think it was possible to love you more, Jamie,” their hands holding on for dear life.“I can’t promise you it will be alright, but any child of ours, a child born out of love, is worth the risk.”

She pulls his head down to her, their lips meeting in a kiss of need, a desperation to the movement of their lips, making every nip count, while the taste of hope floats to the surface.Only when they’ve completely stolen each other’s breath do they separate, resting their foreheads against one other, holding the other up, their strength drawn from each other, steadying in its unwavering love.

“I meant it…before, I willna part from ye, not again,” his statement sealed with a kiss to her knuckles, settling on the promise of forever, her ring.

“Together,” she offers, faith and fear pouring over the precipice they walk so carefully alongside, the sea of sorrow below them, awaiting their fall, but his hand grips her with a fierce determination that this time would be different.This time they would both get to parent their child, from the start.

Jamie looks down, his hand still firmly placed against the life they were fighting for.

“Together.”


End file.
